Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,123

BlackBerry?

Anastasia Steele

Editor, SIP

I stare at her e-mail.

She’s not going to take my name.

She’s. Not. Going. To. Take. My. Name.

Why?

She doesn’t want my name.

Not now, Maggot.

It’s a gut punch.

I gape at the screen, shocked and momentarily paralyzed.

Don’t fight, Maggot!

Why didn’t she tell me? This is how I find out?

Damn it. To hell with this.

I’m going to get her to change her mind.

Like you did about her obeying you, Grey?

My phone buzzes. It’s Andrea. “Ros is on the way up.”

“Thanks. Send her in when she gets here.”

I don’t know what to say to Ana, so I push her e-mail from my thoughts and await my meeting with my chief operating officer.

Ros is in sparkling form. She sails through a concise agenda and brings me up to speed on everything within an hour.

“You’ve done a great job,” I tell her.

“Christian, I’ve loved it. But in all honesty, I missed you.”

I smile, because I don’t know how I should react. I’m not used to compliments from my staff. “In all honesty, I can’t say the same,” I reply.

She grins. “That’s as it should be. I’m sure you had a wonderful time.”

“I did, thank you.”

Except my wife doesn’t want my name.

She gives me a brief speculative look, but I force a smile. “I’ll get on to the Detroit people,” she says, “and I’ll give Hassan a call about whether you need to visit the New York operation this week.”

“Thursday would be good if they need me to go.”

“I’ll let you know.”

After she’s gone, I reread Ana’s e-mail. It’s as discouraging as it was the first time I read it. While I’m contemplating how to respond, Andrea puts Flynn through.

“Christian. Welcome back. How was your honeymoon?” He sounds hale and hearty, and very British. He must have been back to the UK recently.

“Good. Thanks.”

He hesitates, and I know he senses something’s wrong.

“Can I come and see you?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, but my schedule is full today.”

When I don’t respond, he sighs. “Janet, my secretary, will kill me, but I can squeeze you in at lunchtime, though you’ll have to watch me eating my cheese-and-pickle sandwiches.”

“Okay. What time is that?”

“Twelve thirty.”

“I’ll see you then.” I hang up and call Elliot to give him the full story on Hyde and brief him about security.

“What a fucker!” Elliot sneers.

“Yes. That’s him in a nutshell. Don’t tell Kate about this. I know what a newshound she is.”

“Dude—” Elliot protests, but I cut him off.

“Elliot, I don’t want to argue. She’s tenacious. I met my wife because of Kate’s constant badgering, and I don’t want her fucking up the police investigation by becoming involved.”

Elliot is silent.

“No disrespect meant,” I add.

He sighs. “Okay, man. Hope the police catch the bastard.”

“Me, too.”

“I’ve got to be on-site, but let me know how your meeting with Gia goes this evening. I can’t wait to see the plans and we can start ordering the materials we’ll need.”

“Will do.”

“I have half an hour, Christian,” Flynn says when I march into his office.

“She won’t take my name.”

“What?”

“Anastasia.”

“She won’t take your name?” He looks momentarily confused. “Anastasia Grey?”

“Yes. She sent me an e-mail this morning, telling me so.”

“Sit,” he says, and points to the couch, and rather than take his usual chair, he sits down on the couch opposite. There is a plate of sandwiches, their crusts removed, and what looks like cola in a glass in front of him on the coffee table. “Lunch,” he says.

“Please, go ahead. Don’t mind me.”

“So, Christian, let’s just back up a bit. I last saw you on your wedding day. It was a joyous occasion. How was the honeymoon?” He takes a large bite out of a sandwich while my mind casts back to a few days ago. I relax, a little, remembering the calm waters of the deep blue Med; the scent of the bougainvillea, how accommodating and efficient the crew of Fair Lady were…how much I loved being in Anastasia’s company.

“It was sublime.”

John smiles. “Good. Any issues?”

“None that I want to discuss.” I’m not prepared to tell him about the hickey incident yet.

He gives me a direct, level look. “Because you are encroaching on my lunchtime, I’m going to tell you that’s not very helpful.”

I sigh. “Nothing serious. We had one fight.”

“Was that about your name?”

I flush. “Um. No.”

“Okay, when and if you want to discuss that, we can. So, what’s happened since then?”

I tell him at length about Hyde, about firing him, about the incendiary device, and the fact that he had information about me, my family, and Ana